


Time Out From The World

by annemaris (annemari)



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), American Idol RPF, Kris Allen (Musician)
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, M/M, Medical Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-18
Updated: 2010-06-18
Packaged: 2017-10-11 03:03:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/107635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annemari/pseuds/annemaris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Just as Kris has almost convinced himself that he should just tell the others that this isn't necessary and he's going home, a tall, dark-haired man in a hospital coat stops in front of them, and says, "Mr. Allen?"</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time Out From The World

**Author's Note:**

> Written for my [Kink Bingo](http://kink-bingo.dreamwidth.org/) "medical kink" square. Thanks so much to [summerstorm](http://archiveofourown.org/users/summerstorm) for encouraging me to write this and also betaing it. Title from the song by Goldfrapp.

Sitting in the hospital with Cale, Charles, John and Matt is really not how Kris imagined his Friday night would end. Then again, it's his own fault for letting them talk him into the dare in the first place.

"Look, guys, I'm fine," Kris says, and slumps back on the bench. "How many times do I have to tell you?"

"Hey, no one has gone this far _without_ throwing up, so logic says you can't be fine," says Charles.

Kris is about to point out how ironic it is that _Charles_ is talking about logic, but Cale bumps his shoulder, and says, "It's just a precaution, okay."

"Yeah, man, the worst that can happen is that you look like a complete idiot in front of Lucy," says John and snickers.

Kris rolls his eyes. He knows Lucy, one of the doctors in the hospital, well; well enough to be sure that he's not attracted to her, and she's not attracted to him. They even tried to date once, but there was no spark. Lucy's a great woman, though, and all of Kris's friends have some sort of crush on her, so they are convinced this is going to be humiliating for Kris. Kris himself figures it'll be only slightly uncomfortable, and totally pointless, because he's _fine_. He doesn't consider overeating in Chick-Fil-A to be something that requires a trip to the hospital, but the guys kept pushing, and Cale actually sounded _worried_.

"This is all your fault," he says, and leans back against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Relax, man," Charles says, patting him on the knee. "You'll be fiiine. Lucy will take care of it."

Evidently, though, it isn't Lucy who's going to take care of Kris. That becomes startlingly clear when Laura, the evening nurse, comes by, and tells them that Doctor Lambert will soon be seeing Kris.

"Doctor Lambert?" Kris whispers, after Laura has left.

"New doctor?" Matt says, just as John barks out a laugh.

"Oh, I heard about him," he says. "Had to transfer here for some reason. I doubt he'll stay for long, though."

"Why?" Cale asks, while Kris is still trying to wrap his mind around this new development. With the town they live in being so small, everyone knows everyone. Heck, if they don't know Kris, they know his parents or grandparents. Kris is used to that, he _likes_ that, at least here in the hospital. Having to face a complete stranger in a situation like this is entirely unexpected.

"I don't know, he's a big city guy, I heard," John says in response. "Came from somewhere near LA? Doesn't seem like the type to stick around."

"Well, this just got way less interesting," Charles says, and sighs. Kris doesn't agree with him _at all_, but he isn't about to point that out.

Just as Kris has almost convinced himself that he should just tell the others that this isn't necessary and he's going home, a tall, dark-haired man in a hospital coat stops in front of them, and says, "Mr. Allen?"

"Uh, here," Kris says, and quickly stands up.

"Follow me, please," the doctor says.

Kris trails after him into a hospital room, leaving his friends behind. He hovers awkwardly near the door, not sure if he should sit down or stay standing. The doctor strides toward his desk, picks something up, and turns around to face Kris. He's looking down at the paper in his hands — probably Kris's medical record — and Kris uses that time to get a good look at him. He's tall and lean and looks exceptionally good, even in a hospital uniform. Kris mentally shakes himself and tries not to stare.

"Hi, I'm Doctor Lambert. What seems to be the problem?" the doctor says, and even though it's standard hospital talk, Kris finds himself immediately drawn to his voice. There's a sort of — softness in it; stern, but gentle. Kris doesn't really know how to explain it. It puts him a little more at ease.

"Um, I ate too much?" Kris responds.

At that, Doctor Lambert raises his head and looks straight at Kris. "You're kidding, right?" he says.

Kris bites his lip. "No?" To be honest, that's not quite how he'd expect a doctor to act. His opinion on the matter might be a bit skewed, because he's only ever had to deal with doctors who can be considered his friends or doctors who have known him since he was five. Still, he's inclined to ask, "Are you new at this?"

Lambert furrows his brow. "I'm new at this _hospital_. I've been a doctor for three years, for your information." He places the medical record down and takes a step closer to Kris. "When Laura said that she had a good case for me, I thought she actually _meant_ it, that's all. And you're telling me you ate too much?"

Yeah, Kris has to admit, Laura's odd like that. He offers a shrug, says, "I'm sorry?"

Lambert sighs. "Oh, god, don't apologize, that just makes me feel weird."

"It's just — it's not like I did it on purpose," Kris says, and then realises that's actually not completely true. "Mostly," he adds, and fidgets under Lambert's gaze.

"Right," Lambert drawls. "Okay, sit, and explain," he says, pointing towards the cot on the side of the room. Kris heaves himself onto the cot, and thinks about where to start.

"Well," Kris says, "Uh, me and my friends went to Chick-Fil-A and, it — we sort of have this thing, that sometimes, someone makes a bet, and then, they have to eat as much as they can without throwing up? And it was my turn this year." Lambert just stares at him, and Kris looks down at his hands. "It's a tradition?"

The doctor merely raises an eyebrow.

"It's stupid," Kris says.

"It sounds it," Doctor Lambert says, and he sounds — well, amused, actually.

"But I'm fine," Kris says quickly. "Really, my friends just insisted I come here, 'cause, I don't know, maybe they felt guilty or something."

"Uhuh," Lambert says, crowding closer to Kris. "Take off your shirt, please."

Kris pauses for a moment, but then realises it's a reasonable request. He's here, after all, even though he's — fine. Sort of. His stomach groans as he slips off his shirt, and he notices his jeans, however low they are, feel a lot tighter than before. Lambert turns to place Kris's shirt onto a nearby table, and Kris takes the chance to push his jeans even lower, hoping to feel more comfortable. He blushes when he realises what he just did and what it could be interpreted as. "I'm fine," he insists one more time when Lambert's facing him again.

"Of course you are," Lambert says, and Kris is sure he's trying hard not to roll his eyes. "Now, did you take anything for it?"

"Yeah, um," says Kris. "They gave me some antacid."

"Your friends?" Lambert asks. "And how did that make you feel?" he inquires, after Kris nods.

"Um, I'm not sure," Kris says, thinking back to his friends trying to convince him to come to the hospital. He'd been certain there would be no point to it, but now he's not so sure. Doctor Lambert is writing something down on his file, and the way his hair falls onto his face is kind of distracting. "It didn't really... make a difference?"

"And how are you now?" Lambert asks, raising his head. "And if you say you're fine, I swear to god —"

Kris feels a twinge, and winces, pressing a hand to his belly.

Lambert moves even closer to him, says, "Right, then, please lie down."

Kris doesn't have time to react before he's gently being pressed down onto the table. He realises with a jolt that Doctor Lambert is actually going to touch him. A lot. Possibly.

"Try to relax," Lambert says, and Kris sucks in a deep breath, feeling all his muscles tense up.

Lambert's hand hovers over Kris's stomach, but then he pulls back and sighs.

"Look," he says, sounding faintly exasperated, "I'm just going to massage your stomach; it won't be a big deal. You don't even have to take your jeans off, because they have such a low waist." Kris says a mental thank-you to his past self for deciding on those pants this morning. "It will be easier and quicker if you relax your muscles, okay."

He's looking right at Kris, and Kris can't help but nod. Of course, it's no big deal. Granted, the situation is a bit awkward, but the man's a doctor...

His stomach's already protesting at the rigid pose, so he breathes out slowly and forces himself to relax.

"Much better," Doctor Lambert says, and _smiles_.

And then, his hand is on Kris's stomach, surprisingly warm and gentle, and Kris shuts his eyes, because he really doesn't know how he should react.

The thing is, Doctor Lambert is _cute_. He's tall, and he has great hair, and really nice eyes, and even though Kris hasn't exactly admitted it to — well, hardly anyone — he's totally Kris's type. But he's a doctor. And Kris is his stupid patient who is here because of his stupid friends, who are waiting outside and have no idea Kris is bisexual.

Also, apart from Doctor Lambert _touching_ him, this is one of the most unsexy situations Kris has been in, he's pretty sure.

The doctor starts moving his hand, starting from under Kris's ribs, firmly pressing down, over to Kris's lower belly. Kris fidgets a little and tries to concentrate on the ceiling. He kind of wishes Doctor Lambert would say something, anything to make this less awkward. Kris really likes the sound of his voice.

As if reading his mind, Lambert says, "Personally, I think Chick-Fil-A is disgusting. All that grease and fat."

"It's not that bad," Kris says. "Or at least I used to think so."

He makes a self-deprecating face, and Lambert laughs. Kris grasps on to the sound of that and holds on tight. That way it's easier to not think about Lambert's hand, gently rubbing Kris's stomach.

Lambert's fingertips brush Kris's sides, and suddenly it feels like his hand is _everywhere_, lightly pressing on every inch of Kris's stomach — _teasing_.

Kris realises faintly that he's half hard and is eternally grateful for having his jeans on. Hopefully they'll cover it up, because — well, this is certainly new. Kris had no idea he could get turned on by this. He tries desperately to concentrate on something other than the hand that's now resting on his lower abdomen.

Luckily, Lambert says something, and Kris wills all his senses to stop messing about and just focus on listening.

"So, how long have you lived here?" Lambert asks.

It takes Kris a moment to remember he should respond, preferably with a reasonably coherent sentence.

"Uh, all my life," he says, and hopes his voice doesn't give him away.

Lambert's hand moves back up, presses down on the upper right side of Kris's belly.

"Do you like it here?" Lambert asks, and suddenly he's right in Kris's line of vision, looking down at Kris.

Kris realises his mouth is slightly agape and quickly shuts it. He tries to shrug as a response, and that makes Lambert's hand slip a little lower, grazing Kris's belly button.

Lambert just smirks and then lays his other hand on Kris's belly as well. Kris was pretty sure that one hand was enough, but he can feel his insides jostling ad the dull ache he hadn't even noticed before is slowly fading away, now that Lambert is working with both hands. Kris vaguely wonders if all doctors know how to do this and how awkward it really must have been to learn. Then again, they're doctors.

"It seems nice here," Lambert says, bringing Kris back to the moment. "A little boring, but nice."

"Boring?" Kris asks, and twists his head to get a better look at Lambert.

"Well, there clearly isn't much to do around here," Lambert says, and raises his eyebrow. "If this is how you choose to spend a Friday night."

Kris chuckles softly, and has to admit Lambert has a point. He has thought about getting out of town, trying something new and different. He just never really... went through with it. Maybe he'll find it in him some day.

Adam's next touch sends his insides squirming and Kris groans at the sharp pain.

"Easy," Lambert says, and his hand is instantly gentler. "Shh, easy." His other hand comes up to Kris's forehead, the side of his face; just a brief touch, to soothe. Kris feels himself relax almost automatically, but the pain lessens only a little bit.

"That's it," Lambert says, and goes back to applying more pressure to Kris's stomach. He presses down on the same spot, again, and Kris groans — half in pain, half in pleasure.

Lambert moves both his hands down Kris's sides, his thumbs trailing over Kris's belly, soothing, yet firm, and Kris's muscles tense up involuntarily.

"I think I have to —," he starts, a bit panicked.

"Bathroom's right there," Lambert says, and quickly helps him sit up.

Kris feels a bit dizzy, but has no time to regain his balance. He jumps off the table and rushes into the room that Lambert pointed out, pulls the door closed after himself.

Later he stands in front of the mirror in the bathroom, feeling a bit better, yet completely mortified. He can see the blush on his face, and his pupils are wide with lust. He figures he should just go out there and thank Doctor Lambert, put on his shirt, and leave. After all, he got what he came here for, sort of, his stomach feels emptier than it has in days, and he can live with the dull ache at the pit of it. That'll likely pass on his own. There's no reason to waste more of Doctor Lambert's time.

He runs a hand over his face, steels himself for facing Lambert again, and walks out of the room.

Lambert's leaning against the table with his arms crossed over his chest, clearly waiting for Kris. His head comes up when Kris steps closer; he looks — calm. Authoritative. In control. Kris gulps.

"So, um," he stammers. "Thank you. I'm — I'll just get my shirt —"

"Wait," Lambert says, and raises his eyebrow. "Do you think you're free to go already?"

"Um," Kris says, because, well, yeah, he was pretty sure of that. He wasn't sure if he actually _wanted_ to go, but that was another issue entirely.

Lambert steps away from the table, says, "Lie down again, please."

Kris looks from him to the table and back again. It's not like his stomach is completely settled, but he doesn't really know how he feels about having Doctor Lambert's hands roam freely over it. Softly trailing his fingertips over Kris's sides, giving just enough pressure to take away the nagging pain and leave something else entirely in it's wake.

Kris knows he could just say no. He also knows that the doctor probably sees him as just another patient, but in the back of his mind, he hopes it's something more, and he doesn't want to pass up that chance.

He steps closer, before he gets the chance to talk himself out of it. He's about to climb on the cot, when Doctor Lambert's hand brushes his.

"I think you should take off your jeans," he says. Kris just stares at him, not quite believing what he's hearing. "I think it will give me better access this time," Lambert continues. "To your stomach."

Kris feels himself blush, and he ducks his head before quickly shimming out of his pants. Bending down and then straightening up leaves him just a little breathless and Lambert places a hand on his shoulder as he reaches for the jeans Kris is now holding.

"Easy," he says, lays the jeans next to Kris's shirt, and helps Kris back onto the table.

Kris lies down, and tries to settle himself comfortably. He can feel his breathing turn faster, and the short inhales and exhales are jostling his stomach, making it tense up.

Lambert's hand slowly slips back to his lower stomach, just pressing in; gentle. He starts rubbing Kris's belly again, standing much closer to him this time, and it's just too overwhelming.

"Doctor Lambert," he says, faintly, wanting to hear something, anything to ease this feeling inside him.

And then Lambert leans in, and says, voice low, "It's Adam."

Kris gasps, as Lambert — Adam — trails his fingers over Kris's middle-section, fingernails softly scratching the sensitive skin. Adam spreads his fingers wide on Kris's belly, right under his belly-button.

"How does that feel?" he asks, and Kris _whimpers_ in response.

Adam's thumb slides down Kris's happy trail, presses in when he gets close to Kris's groin.

"Yeah, you like that," Adam says, just as Kris realises he's completely hard; his briefs dragging against his cock. Adam strokes his other hand over Kris's upper stomach, pushes down on it. Kris moves his hips, desperately wanting Adam to touch him lower, slip his hand over Kris's cock. Adam, however, has other ideas.

"You know what I think?" he says, and presses in on Kris's lower stomach again. "I think I can make you come just from this. Isn't that right?"

Kris gulps, and nods his head, because he really doesn't doubt that, at all.

"And all of them," Adam whispers, "everyone out there, they'll be able to tell." And then his hands still.

"Adam?" Kris asks, because Adam is totally not allowed to _stop_, Kris doesn't know if he can take that.

"We shouldn't —" Adam starts, and he sounds a bit lost, regretful.

"What, _why_?"

"It's only my second week here." Adam's hands slip from Kris's stomach. "Sure, they tolerate my eyeliner and all, but it's — I don't want a scandal or anything,"

"Wait," Kris says, desperate, grabs Adam's hand. "I won't tell anyone, please, I'll clean myself up, no one will know, no one will suspect, please."

He tries to catch Adam's eye, make him believe it. "Please, I won't tell anyone. I — I can keep a secret."

The sound of Adam's laugh settles deep in Kris's belly, and he doesn't want to let go of it. "Oh my god, you are something else, aren't you," Adam says, still chuckling.

Kris grins up at him, and places Adam's hand back on his stomach. The soft touch sends chills over Kris's body, and he can't help but _want_. He feels so close to the edge, and then Adam is gently moving his fingers all over Kris's belly, feather-light touches that drive Kris wild. Kris's breath gets more and more shallow the deeper Adam's hands start to push, and soon he's writhing on the table.

"Maybe — Maybe I should take off my —"

He doesn't get the chance to finish the sentence, before Adam surges down to kiss him, and just like that, Kris comes.

Adam kisses him through the orgasm, his mouth hot and soft, grounding Kris. When the haze finally starts to lift from Kris's mind, he can't help but laugh.

"Whoa."

"That was unexpected," Adam agrees, sounding a little out of breath.

"Right," Kris says. "I should probably — get cleaned up?"

"Yeah," says Adam, and Kris is really enjoying how strained his voice sounds. Adam slips a hand around his shoulders and helps him sit up, but just as Kris is about to slide down from the cot, he realises he's completely missed something.

"Wait," he says. "Do you need me to — uh." He gestures towards Adam's crotch.

"No, I'm good for now," Adam says, and smiles. "You've probably been here for a little too long, people might get the wrong idea."

"You think so?" Kris says, ruefully.

"Or they might think that I've accidentally killed you and snuck you out the back, or something," Adam says, and Kris bursts out laughing.

"Okay," he says. "Yeah, bathroom is — there, right. Knew that." He gets down from the cot, and almost stumbles over his own feet. Adam catches him easily, keeps him from face-planting to the ground. "Thanks."

"Take it easy," Adam says, and chuckles. "Also, I'm sorry, but I can't help you with those," Adam says, slyly indicating to Kris's briefs.

"I'll manage," Kris says, and shuffles to the bathroom, grabbing his clothes on the way.

Once in there, he leans against the sink and just _breathes_. This has definitely been one of the craziest nights of his life. Putting it all into words would be ridiculous, but he kind of wants to write a song about it. Looking into the mirror, he almost doesn't recognize the person looking back. He can't remember the last time he felt this _alive_. Usually it only happens on the stage on open mike nights, and not even then has it been this — overwhelming.

Kris is not really sure what he hopes will come out of his, but he does knows he kind of wanted Adam to answer him with "we can do that next time" when he offered, or anything that alluded to there _being_ a next time. He steps into the shower and quickly cleans himself off. When getting dressed, he discards his underwear and just slips on his shirt and jeans. It feels good. He's not really sure where to put his briefs though, seeing as he came here pretty much empty handed, and he can't just walk out there, holding them.

He heads back out, finds Adam sitting behind his desk, looking down at his clasped hands.

"Um, do you have, like, any prescription drugs," Kris asks, and Adam's head shoots up.

"Why, are you still sick?" Adam gets up and steps closer to him, looking concerned.

"No, no," says Kris, and smiles. "You could put it in a plastic bag, or something. The biggest you got?" He points to the briefs.

"Oh," Adam says, and chuckles. "I might find something for you." He rummages in the drawers and pulls out a box and a paper bag.

"Very eco-friendly of you," Kris says.

"Oh, shut up, or I'm prescribing you Viagra," Adam says, and hands both the box and bag to Kris. Kris stuffs his briefs into the bag, and chunks the box of Aspirin after them.

Adam searches for a pen, and bends over the desk to write something down. Kris's breath hitches.

"Oh," Adam says, and turns his head to look at Kris. "Since you're my _patient_, I'm also obligated to ask, how's your stomach. On the record." He grins at Kris, rueful.

"Better," Kris says, and feels himself blush. "It's good, um, thank you."

Adam straightens up and smiles fondly.

"Don't let your friends talk you into something that stupid again, okay?"

Kris ducks his head, because, seriously, Adam's completely right. He should stop letting them boss him around, it's getting kind of annoying, not to mention embarrassing. He feels Adam stepping closer to him, and then he's tilting Kris's head up, looking right into his eyes.

"It'd be a shame if such a beautiful body got ruined."

Kris's breath catches in his throat, and he's unable to look away. Adam doesn't move closer, and they stay like that, Adam's fingertips soft on Kris's chin, his other hand hovering next to Kris's hip. It seems like Adam is waiting for something, but Kris can't _breathe_. This whole thing is absolutely crazy, he thinks, faintly. After a moment, Adam pulls back, and Kris gulps in a breath, a little dizzy.

"Adam?"

"Doctor Lambert, please," Adam says, and he sounds just a little — disappointed, or sad. Kris realises he wants to find out exactly what Adam sounds like when he's upset or excited or happy.

"Right," Kris says, and looks down. "How about... dinner, sometime, Doctor Lambert?"

He forces himself to look back up and is almost blinded by Adam's smile. There's a knock on the door, and Adam quickly composes his face, but the smile lingers.

"I probably have a patient waiting," he says, faintly apologetic.

"Next time?" Kris asks, because he really doesn't want to leave without at least some glimmer of hope.

"Until next time," Adam agrees, and grins.

Kris smiles and walks out of the room, glancing back on the doorstep. The minute he's left Adam behind, though, all his courage drops away. What if the others can tell what happened? Kris certainly doesn't have anything that would even resemble a poker face. That doesn't mean he'll change his mind about Adam, he just really doesn't want to explain anything right now.

When he slowly walks back to the bench where he left the other guys, he comes face to face with Cale. Alone.

"Sorry," Cale says, and stands up, "The others had to go, they said they hope you feel better."

Kris feels almost giddy with relief. "That's okay," he says. It's better than okay, Cale is the only one out of the group who sort-of knows, and Kris is really glad he doesn't have to see the other guys right now. He smiles wide, still not quite believing what actually happened.

"Are you okay?" Cale asks, eyeing Kris a little warily as they start heading for the door. "You look — kind of — I don't know."

"I'm —"

"Mr. Allen."

Kris stops in his tracks and turns around to see Adam rushing towards him.

"You forgot this," Adam says, and presses something into Kris's hand. He gives Kris a brief smile and is gone the next moment. Kris looks down at the — piece of paper.

It has a phone number on it, along with Adam's name and e-mail.

Kris smiles to himself and sticks the paper into his pocket.

"I'm fine," he tells Cale and smiles even wider when he sees Cale's face. "I'm great."


End file.
